Is there anything that inexplicably makes you all happy and cozy? Or really depressed?
I once read that Gloria Steinem hated a radio playing in an empty room. Apparently that plummeted her into depression. I hate the sound of sporting events on TV. Ugh. Those whistles, the announcer, the crowd. I am depressed just writing about it.
I am pretty sure this is because when I was a kid, my father spent about 86 hours a weekend watching sports down in the TV room. Oh, he'd get mad. He'd yell and swear like a sailor when his team lost. He would drink Cokes and eat Brach's chocolate stars. Perhaps his sugar high put him in a snit.
Sometimes I'd go down there with a cup and he'd pour me some of his Coke. Oh, it always tasted better when he was sharing it with me. But I think the whole "dad is swearing downstairs" thing made sports depressing for me.
Also depressing? National Public Radio. Those CALM voices, the utter lack of noise in the background. That cloying All Things Considered theme music. Do do DO do do do DO! ACK! Make it stop.
THAT one is because NPR would always be playing in the living room before dinner, and it meant I had to stop having fun and go eat. I always had to be really well-behaved during dinner. I couldn't curl my legs under me, I had to use my utensils correctly. And as I recall, dinner was always a fancy affair. I may be remembering wrong, but I remember always having cloth napkins, and candles, and bread in a covered basket. I'm not saying that was unpleasant, but I think NPR signaled to me, "It's time to act grown up and hold your fork right." Blech.
Now, something that makes me happy? When I am driving at night, and someone's garage is up, and there is a light on and someone is working in there. Do not ask me why. I have no idea.
I think this must have been something I saw a lot growing up. In Michigan, everyone worked for the auto industry, so every dad would tinker in the garage. So I think it's just familiar.
Another one that makes me happy? In the evening? One small light on in the kitchen. Like, maybe the light over the stove, or just the one over the sink. I can trace that one easily. Very often after dinner we'd go to my grandparents' house. Grammy would have just finished cleaning up the kitchen (which is also why I love the smell of Palmolive dish soap), and she'd turn off the lights except for the one over the sink. Then we'd all sit in the living room and talk.
Sometimes, when I got bored, my grandfather would take me back into the kitchen, just us, and we drink Cokes in there, with just that light on. Cokes figure heavily in my childhood, don't they?
Anyway, I have no idea how I got off on this tangent, except that I saw a light in a garage last night and got to thinking of it.
Tell me your "cozy for no real reason" stories. Or your "that plummets me" tales.